The Linger
by Imitating Licentiousness
Summary: Oneshot blurb. Just another one of those days.


Just a short one-shot blurb written during Algebra when I should've been paying attention. My first House fic. Be gentle. Please R & R, all reviews are appreciated and will be commented back on.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Wish with all my heart I did.

The Linger

Today was _not_ a good day. One of the frequently increasing number of days when the Vicodin simply wasn't enough. One of those days when the pain from his leg throbbed relentlessly, pulsing up his spine and into his brain until every beat of his heart would send spurts of agony throughout every bone in his body. Worse, he'd been on his feet all damn day long, making up his clinic hours.

By the time he'd finally made it up to his office after a sixteen-hour shift, he'd practically collapsed in his chair in agony, seriously considering taking a nice, fat syringe of morphine, draining a bottle of Scotch, and just spending the night in drunken, drug-induced bliss.

Still…he saved morphine specifically for those days when the pain was absolutely unbearable, and somewhere, the sensible part in the back of his mind told him that he could wait just a little longer. But to tide himself over, he popped one Vicodin and took a single shot of Scotch, in the event he managed to get himself up and out to his motorcycle—House wasn't one to attempt drunk driving.

However, he just couldn't get himself up out of the chair. He knew that at home, he could take a nice, hot shower or bath, and lay down on a comfortable bed and watch his Tivo'ed episodes of General Hospital. But his rear remained in the chair, his hands over his eyes and rubbing circles on his forehead, elbows propped up on the gray surface of the desk.

Which is where Cameron found him almost an hour later when she came to drop off paperwork.

"House?" she asked.

He could already detect the concern in her voice.

"I thought your shift ended an hour ago."

"It did." His voice was thick, strained.

"Why aren't you going home?"

"It would appear that the chair has fallen in love with my ass and just won't let go."

Cameron snorted and rolled her eyes. "Your ass isn't _that_ great."

(Of course she was lying.)

House uncovered one eye with his hand to glance at her. He was going to think of some jackass remark to that last statement, but another pulse of pain wracked through his body, and he winced. He groaned and laid his head down, nose flattened against the desk.

Cameron grimaced. She couldn't even imagine the constant pain he must be in. And there were no words of comfort she could offer that he wouldn't have some retort to. If it were anyone else, she knew she would have dismissed a comment from some crotchety bastard hell-bent on making everyone else miserable. But it wasn't anyone else. It was House, and—

"Are those folders for me, or are you just going to stand their and hold them?" House interrupted her train of thought.

She blushed, realizing that she had been staring. "Just some sign-offs for some of the clinicals. They're finished."

"Mm." He took them from her, tossing them onto the filing cabinet, before looking at her.

"Do you want me to give you a ride home?"

He stared at her. So sincere, so gentle. Only wanting to help. And, as many times as she'd told him she didn't love him anymore, deep within those smoky blue eyes, she was lying.

God…he just knew he would hurt her. And knew that he never could. But, Lord, he wanted her.

"No, thanks. I'll see if Wilson's around, he can give me a lift."

Cameron pursed her lips and nodded. "Okay." She did a good job of masking the disappoint in her voice.

She moved behind him to collect her purse from its resting place on his bookshelf before turning around to look at him. His back was still to her, arms crossed, still leaning. Then one of those rare, compulsive urges charged through her, and before she could stop herself, she was leaning forward and down, wrapping one arm over his shoulder and snaking under his chin, other arm grasping his left bicep, giving him a hug from behind, resting her chin on top of his right shoulder. She allowed herself a single moment to linger.

The thing that surprised her most was that he didn't shrug her off. Instead, one hand rose to pat her briskly on her hand, and for the briefest millisecond, she could swear that his fingers rested against hers.

Cameron almost died from shock. But, a second later, and she was withdrawing, gathering her bag and coat. House already missed the warmth on his back from where she had leaned, the coolness of breath that had puffed just below his ear moments before.

_Perhaps. Perhaps just this once_…he thought.

"Cameron," he called when she was halfway out the door.

She almost snapped her neck turning to look at him. "Yes?"

"Actually, a ride wouldn't be too bad."


End file.
